


Lingua va dove il dente duole

by Bernardina



Category: Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: I'm Bad At Summaries, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Please Don't Kill Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 17:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15823881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bernardina/pseuds/Bernardina
Summary: For a language major Ermal surely doesn't know how to speak properly.





	Lingua va dove il dente duole

**Author's Note:**

> So... Someone finally decided to contribute to the fandom.  
> Forgive me, father, I have sinned. Hope my actual father never finds this.  
> It's long? I'm sorry? It was supposed to be shorter, but then I went full Leo Tolstoy mode, and here's what we have.  
> I'm not a native speaker, so there might be mistakes, even if I triple-checked everything.  
> Inspired by Molto bene, molto male and my sick brain.

\- Well, how about this?

Ermal Meta, a second-year student in one of the most prestigious universities in Rome, who successfully passed his exams, never had much trouble with subjects and was generally loved by professors for his tendency to work hard and do assignments in time, now faced an enormously huge problem: he didn’t know what to wear.

\- Really, you don’t need to stress so much. We are going to the bar to meet up with some friends, not to the Queen Elizabeth’s palace!

Giada already stood at the door, her make-up done perfectly, an elegant watch on her hand screaming they’re definitely going to be late, if they don’t hurry up soon. She has known Ermal only for several weeks and has learned the guy surely loved to take his time preparing. However, today was something else. He was pale, his hands shaking with anxiety since morning, and she lost the count of questions about whether he looked good enough, she had to answer. She didn’t sign up for this, when she agreed to let an exchange student from Milan live with her for a semester. At the beginning it wasn’t much of a disturbance: Ermal didn’t turn his room into a complete mess nor did he try to occupy all of Giada’s free time (which wasn’t many hours, frankly speaking), and they got along pretty well to be considered friends. So it was only natural that eventually he was introduced to her other friends and became a part of their not so little group. That led to cozy gatherings, night tours around Rome (Ermal claimed he didn't need more than a couple of hours of sleep, and everyone was beyond relieved to hear it since spending nights indoors wasn’t their strong suit either), long lighthearted conversations and… Ermal awkwardly pacing around the room at four a.m. trying to find the perfect outfit for a casual meeting, which was more than twelve hours ahead, and barely paying attention to anything else for the rest of the day.

\- Sorry, it’s just… You know better about…

\- About what?

Giada raised an eyebrow, completely aware that in fact it was rather _who_ than _what_.

\- Well, about… Umm… About what you usually wear for these meetings, since you know guys there better than me.

Nice save. At least he truly hoped so. Luckily for him, Giada wasn’t in the mood to call him out on it.

\- We are people too, you know. As long as you don’t wear a fairy costume, you’ll be fine.

Finally after good ten minutes Ermal was standing at the doorway. He settled for a blue flannel shirt, ripped jeans and a couple of bracelets and was now putting on his shoes. Well, they are really _fashionably_ late.

\- Should I add a scarf?

Ermal pointed at a grey long thing, which looked more like a stocking than anything else. Giada looked at the window, where bright yellow sun was successfully attempting to burn the whole Earth down.

\- Umm, sure?

***

The bar was already noisy and crowded, when they entered. Before even a second passed they had seen a way too enthusiastic hand waving around and rushed to a huge table in the corner. Greetings echoed in ears, Ermal was overwhelmed with hugs and questions, his mind too full of noise to make something out of the cacophony of voices and music.

\- So what took you two so long? I thought one of you murdered the other and needed to hide the corpse, - Marco smiled before chugging his beer.

\- My bet was on Giada, - Andrea added, which earned him an unimpressed eye-roll from the supposed killer.

\- We were stuck for a while. The traffic is rough, especially at this time, - Ermal replied without thinking. After all, it was believable, right? Traffic was a huge issue in any big city, not only in Rome.

\- Umm, Ermal, the bar is literally fifteen minutes away from your apartment, and, if I’m not mistaken, you always get here on foot.

Andrea shot him a knowing glance, while Marco simply laughed, tilting his head back and almost choking on his beer. When Ermal opened his mouth is another attempt to get out of this situation (or just not to dig his own grave even deeper), a figure appeared in front of him.

\- Sorry, guys, duty called. Oh, ciao, Giada, ciao, Ermal!

Ermal’s breath got stuck in his throat, but he quickly gained composure and flashed a bright smile at the tall tattooed man, who apparently has never heard of the purpose of buttons, as his shirt was almost open and revealed a rather muscular chest with an inked cross. The bartender, who always gave him a discount no matter how unhappy the owner of the place was about such kindness, held a freshly made drink in one hand and a guitar in the other. Putting a glass on the table, he hugged the newcomers. Ermal prayed to all the gods he knew not to make a pleased sound, when he felt a warm arm gently stroking his back, otherwise he would never hear the end of it. He’s already given too much material for jokes today.

Ermal remembered the first time he encountered the handsome bartender. It was a few days after Giada had introduced him to Marco and Andrea. The guys were nice and easygoing, but their lifestyle raised some questions, especially their obsession with spending evenings at the local bar and enormously strong wish to drag Ermal to see that place. Giada, surprisingly, shared their views and, despite her not being pushy about it, Ermal still felt the pressure. After some time of convincing and a particularly offensive _“you need to stop seeing people as talking machines”_ directed at his ability to turn everything into linguistics, curiosity took over. The place was cozy and domestic, and it offered live music, which was perfect, as music was just as addictive to him as languages. He composed melodies on his guitar and sometimes filled his notebooks with lyrics as well as notes from lectures, but his audience always consisted of his family, and he was insecure to let someone else into the world of his songs. It felt like ripping his chest open and allowing to see his heart without trying to hide ugly and dark parts. The mere thought made him nervous. Although he still hoped that one day he’d gain enough courage to show his soul to the world. Or, at least, another soul willing to listen.

Not everyone was as insecure as him, that Ermal learned, when he got to know another friend of Giada’s, Fabrizio Mobrici, or Fabrizio Moro, as he called himself when walked on a small stage and smiled to the public. Fabrizio was a local star, he was getting more famous around Rome with each passing day, playing in pubs or even organising little concerts in clubs. However, he still was loyal to his workplace, his bar, where he sang at nights he didn’t have shifts or other things scheduled. Besides covering well-known songs and effortlessly making the crowd sing chorus with him, he performed his own. Raw and unapologetically honest or heartfelt and gentle, these songs were perfect in beauty of emotions and passion filling them. Ermal was stunned, completely mesmerized not only by the raspy voice and lyrics striking something deep inside him, but also by the way Fabrizio’s hands touched the strings or how he closed his eyes while concentrating on the music.

\- He does have that effect on people, - Giada smiled as she watched her new friend’s reaction.

Ermal could only nod, not taking his eyes off of the stage.

Since then Fabrizio began haunting Ermal’s mind quite often, and the curly one used every reason to go to the bar. Luckily for him, no excuses were needed, as he was soon a part of the huge friendly group that just happened to spend their free time at the place the tattooed musician was working. They got along well, Fabri seemed easy to talk to, it was visible how much he cared for everyone in the group, and Ermal quickly earned a place in his heart. Somewhere along getting closer to the Roman, Ermal also earned new sensations, like sudden waves of joy whenever he caught a glance from the bartender, or overwhelming anxiety and fear to say something stupid in front of him. What was it? Ermal didn’t dare to put a label.

Now he was mentally preparing himself for getting lost in his emotions, as he watched Fabrizio make his way to the stage. Strumming his guitar, the musician started singing. There were evenings of being unafraid, evenings of expressing protest and dissatisfaction with events happening in the country or life in general. Tonight was not one of those, instead it was time for love, tenderness and care, for the will to protect everyone dear to you and hold them close no matter what comes crashing in the next day. At the rare moments Fabri raised his head and eyed the audience, stopping his gaze at the same old table in the corner, where he could always find support. Ermal wanted nothing more than to meet the man’s look, and a couple of times he did were the happiest. While singing romantic words and smiling brightly, Fabri sent a kiss at the direction on his friends, and Ermal had a hard time not giving in to the temptation of thinking that little gesture was meant for him only.

***

\- So… Mafia time! - Andrea excluded, - You bet I'll crush you all. My grandmother had a degree in psychology, she taught me all of her tricks.

\- Is that why you get killed so often? - Giada raised and eyebrow and chuckled.

Andrea pouted but didn’t say anything: he was too busy with the cards.

\- Everyone knows who’s the real master of mafia here, - Fabrizio pointed at Giada before picking up his card from the table.

\- Flatterer, - she rolled her eyes and reached for her own card.

Something in Ermal’s chest tightened. He was aware Giada and Fabri had history together (and that was so not about the class) and they have already moved on. Like his roommate once said, they realised it just wasn’t meant to be and parted on good terms. Sure, the first week after the breakup had some awkward incidents, but everything soon turned back to normal, and even embarrassing comments from Marco (also known as the local king of sarcasm) couldn’t ruin the friendly atmosphere in the group. Ermal knew it all. However, this knowledge was no use against the sickening feeling in his stomach appearing every time interactions between the duo were becoming slightly more teasing than usual. When it happened, he put all of his efforts into distracting himself any possible way, otherwise he just might’ve cling onto Fabri, and not only the most observant ones would notice how attached he is to a certain bartender. The only smart thing now seemed to be trying to enjoy the game, so he carefully turned the card in his hands and looked at the picture.

A hooker. Well, he’s screwed.

\- And now, once everyone cursed the destiny for their roles, - Marco looked around the audience, like a president before an important announcement, - The city falls asleep!

Thousands of questions rolled inside Ermal’s head, while he waited for his turn. Who should he choose? Of course, he could just pick randomly. Going down the sage road seemed to be settling on Dino, the man was very quiet and didn’t know Ermal that much, so choosing him was less suspicious, right? Or maybe Andrea? The last time they stayed all night playing, the poor guy got killed more than ten times, it was just unfair. Was Giada a good choice? Or is it too obvious, since he knows her best? Well, at least not as obvious as…

\- The Hooker wakes up.

Ermal was caught off guard by Marco’s voice. Frantically he eyed everyone and stopped at the sight of Fabri hanging his head down as if he really was asleep. The man looked so cute and peaceful that Ermal couldn’t draw his eyes away. Apparently, Marco took it as a sign and gestured at Fabrizio, silently asking, if Ermal made his choice. Ermal nodded before any single thought was able to cross his mind. Marco winked at him, and he felt dread approaching. Out of all possibilities he was purposely ignoring that one. It was like confessing he fell head over heels for Fabrizio, which he tried to keep a secret. Giada knew about his crush, probably longer than he did, but the others and, most importantly, Fabri… Shit. Now he really fucked up.

\- The city wakes up.

Ermal focused on Marco. Meeting Fabrizio’s eyes after figuratively hooking up with him was too much. Morning afters are hard indeed.

\- It seems like our mafia isn’t friendly with exchange students. Sorry, Ermal, you got murdered.

Great. And there he was, pitying Andrea and his luck.

Meanwhile Marco took the card from Ermal’s hands.

\- And what an interesting job did this student have!

Ermal tried his best not to blush and with enormous effort he managed to appear calm. Even if he felt like collapsing on the floor, no-one needed to know about it. When he thought the worst was now behind him, Marco announced the Hooker’s choice.

Oh no.

Fabrizio’s face flushed, as he nervously smiled, clearly not able to look at Ermal. The heat crawled up to his own cheeks, and Ermal thanked mother nature for giving him curls, which could hide his embarrassment.

\- Looks like someone is done being subtle, - Andrea’s laughter filled the room.

\- Hey! Speak no evil of the dead!

Hearing Marco mocking him made Andrea laugh even louder. God, did Ermal wish to disappear.

After another round, where karma hit Andrea in the face, much to Ermal’s satisfaction, he decided to get a breath of fresh air. Or not so fresh, since he had a few cigarettes and a lighter.

He stood outside of the bar, looking at the passing cars and enjoying the taste of tobacco. Panic from before seemed to slowly subside, but the thought of returning and facing the music still was somewhere in the corner of his mind, not willing to linger. The night was young, and he knew hours will pass before they finally part ways until next Saturday. Or, maybe, if they were lucky and the professor decided to go easy on them, the meeting would be scheduled sooner. He surely hoped it would. Being there with Fabri, Giada and their friends gave him a sensation of comfort he never knew he needed. He wasn’t good at communicating, and it was so easy to get lost in big crowds. Sometimes he got invited to partied and even had some fun, but if he had went away and hadn’t come back to the house, nobody would've noticed. Here he felt different. He could distance himself as much as necessary for him to be comfortable, and it wouldn’t cost him anyone’s friendship. He belonged there, with these people, their stupid jokes and doubtful hobbies. A chuckle escaped his lips, when a memory of him unwilling to accept the opportunity and being scared of Rome flew before his eyes.

\- Smoking kills, you know?

A deep voice brought Ermal back to reality. He didn’t need to turn his head to know who the voice belonged to. He has learned every undertone by heart.

\- Says the one carrying a whole cigarette shop in his pockets, - Ermal let out the smoke, - Plus I’m already dead, so no harm done.

A hearted laugh reached his ears, and Ermal felt himself blushing again.

\- We’re a bunch of zombies by now. Well, except Marco. And Giada. I don’t know how she does it.

\- You got killed too?

Fabri lit his cigarette up.

\- I got exposed. Who knew Dino was so smart?

\- Does that mean…

The puzzle in Ermal’s head was nearly complete.

\- Bastard! You killed me!

Ermal teasingly pushed Fabrizio, but the man was too fast, and soon Ermal found himself pressed against the wall, Fabri’s face inches from his.

\- I wouldn’t joke with the mafia, if I were you.

Fabri whispered right into his ear, and Ermal felt goosebumps dancing wildly on his skin. Ermal licked his lips.

\- Guys! Are you coming? Giada roasted us again! She…

Andrea appeared on the street and suddenly stopped in his tracks.

\- On second thought, I'll just come back later.

\- We are coming! - Fabrizio shouted at the direction, where Andrea stood a second ago. Now the guy was nowhere to be seen.

\- Wait!

Ermal wanted to cover his mouth with his hands and never speak again. Why did it sound so much like a whine?

\- I’ve been meaning to ask you… There’s a project on the Roman dialect I’m working on. Maybe you could help me since you’re the most Roman a Roman can be? I mean, the way you talk…

\- Sure. Just call me, when you want to start.

Ermal let out a shaky breath. He finally did it. Although “the most Roman a Roman can be”? For a person majoring in languages he surely doesn’t know how to speak properly. And later he’d have to talk to Fabri alone for the whole evening… His imagination was already running wild. Before he could picture something too inappropriate, the voice, oh, so familiar, made him return from his dreamland again.

\- By the way, I didn't really want to kill you. I was simply outnumbered.

***

“Day X.” Words appeared on the phone screen as soon as Ermal took the buzzing device in his hands to shut down the annoying alarm. He barely had any sleep for the last few days, and once he actually managed to, he was rudely interrupted. And exactly in the moment, where Fabri held him tightly, his full lips slightly grazing Ermal’s neck, his knee between Ermal’s legs… Oh. _Oh._

Day X. The day Ermal was supposed to meet with Fabrizio to work on his project. Not to get all flustered and enamored again, not to relive the images his mind kindly offered him this night, and, certainly, not to do anything reckless and spontaneous. If coming to your crush’s house and spending time alone doesn’t sound reckless, that is.

Ermal has been tense since morning, thoughts rummaging through his mind, palms sweating, and not so graceful words leaving his mouth. At some point he started searching etymology of Italian swearing. Strangely, it calmed him down and made his hours of waiting for the date a little more bearable. No, not a date. He shook his head almost frantically and loudly exhaled with a word, the origin of which he’s just learned.

As he counted steps, while walking to Fabrizio’s flat, he mentally scolded himself for worrying too much and Giada for having enough of his doubts about outfits and vanishing into thin air right when he wanted to ask her, if a white shirt is too formal. He couldn't blame her though, the sight of him panicking over every single item in his closet was not the most pleasant for sore eyes. Besides, Giada gave him a hug and a reassuring smile before exiting their shared apartment, so she didn’t truly abandon him in a critical state.

The second the door opened with a slight creak, all irritating thoughts of Giada were put aside, as Ermal had no willpower to focus on anything other than the man in front of him. Fabri was dressed casually, meaning his shirt was nearly hanging open on his shoulders, leaving not much to the imagination. But that was enough to let Ermal’s sick brain wander.

The next thing Ermal knew he was already sitting in the kitchen with a cup of hot tea in his hand (he made a promise to himself not to drink anything alcoholic to save a last bit of sanity), Fabrizio talking about a song he composed yesterday and needed to add finishing touches to.

\- If you want, I'll play it to you once it's ready. I could really use an opinion of someone, who knows so much about words.

At that moment Ermal didn't know anything about words, as none were able to escape his mouth. Does Fabri truly wish for him to be the first one to listen to his new song? Surely, Ermal loved music, especially Fabrizio’s, and he enjoyed talking about it just as much as he enjoyed llanguages but to actually approach a melody, while it’s fresh, get a glimpse not of Fabrizio the confident, fierce musician on stage, but of Fabrizio the man, who puts his soul into sounds and notes, pouring his heart out to him, was a completely different offer. An offer he could never decline. He had to use all his remaining strength to make his “Yes, I’d like it very much” sound not too excited.

Soon the conversation went back to more casual things, and Ermal’s worries slowly disappeared. He and Fabrizio had a lot in common, yet their lives were so different. Both had to face a lot to reach the point they had now, Fabri determined to pursue music, not paying attention to anyone saying he should find a real job or get his head out of the clouds, Ermal learning how to smile and laugh again, and, honestly, with such a wonderful example in front of him as Fabri’s shy yet so sincere smile was, he felt like he could succeed easily. After a while Ermal even stopped trying to control himself or his choice of words and allowed himself to be careless and inexcusably happy. At least for a while. At least before life ruins everything again, as it always does.

\- So what should I do? Do I need to tell you something specific or should I just talk? Or are you already inspecting me?

A throaty chuckle and a confused look from Fabrizio were enough to make the tension from earlier return. Many times Ermal asked himself how exactly he should work and what role the Roman plays in it (besides him being the main reason Ermal chose to do that project at all), but no decent answer came to his mind. Ridiculous. He didn't think about the official reason he was seeing Fabrizio tonight, he didn't go that far in the mess of a plan he had. After mentally adding “sono un cretino” to his resume, he decided to go with the flow and not let doubts succumb him.

\- I don’t really know. Hearing you talk is good. I have some questions, but let's start with something simple and, like, absolutely normal. It's easier to notice the nuances this way.

\- Normal like what? Should I introduce myself?

Fabri flashed one of his beautiful smiles before continuing.

\- Well. Ciao, I’m Fabrizio…

He was interrupted by loud embarrassing sounds of laughter. Ermal threw his head back, not even trying to suppress his giggles.

\- Fabbbbrizio! With four “b”s!

Moving instinctively, Ermal learned forward and put his head on the crook of Fabri’s neck, burying his face there, feeling hot skin against his own cold one. Once the sudden excitement died down, Ermal immediately started panicking. He’s never been this close to the other man before, and while the sensation of warmth that spread though his whole body was welcomed, he wasn't sure if this sort of contact was allowed. When Fabrizio laughed too and wrapped his arms around Ermal, the curly one inhaled sharply and let a smile form on his lips.

When they finally parted, much to Ermal’s disappointment, he looked at Fabri, who seemed embarrassed yet strangely happy. His eyes lit up, and his grin could outshine the sun itself, if the star was up to a challenge.

\- Fabri… No, I can't call you that now! - Ermal laughed again, making Fabrizio’s cheeks turn reddish.

\- Hmm… How about Bizio?

Ermal blurted out the first thing that occurred in his mind. He was afraid to hear the reaction. Did he cross some weird line between what he wanted to have and what he actually could?

\- Bizio… That’s new. I like it.

The way his new nickname sounded, when spoken by its owner, made Ermal sigh dreamily. There was something about this man, which made him go crazy over tiny details. He was always quite observant, but now it was simply ridiculous. He noticed everything, from the way wrinkles appeared on Bizio’s nose, when he laughed, to the way he ruffled his hair, when put in awkward situations or whether he seemed at a loss of words. Surprisingly, the only thing Ermal didn't pay enough attention to was his reason to be here with the Roman right now. A couple of times he tried to bring the conversation back to the project, but they felt too carefree to let work interfere in the little world they just created. Because it seemed like Ermal was living his dream, not the haunting image he woke up from in the morning, but his wishes, which he didn’t (even probably couldn't) put into words.

\- By the way, what were you talking about with Andrea there, at the bar? He always turns everything into jokes, but I legit thought he'd explode from laughter.

As if he wasn't the one laughing so much just minutes ago that he forgot not only about his concerns but the whole meaning of personal space.

\- Oh. This is too inappropriate. Only Andrea enjoys those silly anecdotes that much.

A blush creeped up Fabrizio’s cheeks bit was soon replaced with a mischievous smile.

\- I can tell you, if you want.

\- Oh, do tell.

Ermal absentmindedly moved a bit closer and looked at Fabrizio, challenging him. The Roman’s grin widened as he began telling a very silly and indeed obscene story, never turning his gaze away from Ermal. Two can play this game, and Ermal returned the gaze, studying Bizio’s features, letting his mind wander. The anecdote was forgotten mid-way, but neither of them cared. If Fabrizio’s eyes were bright before, now there were flickers of wild fire dancing in them, and Ermal could see his own heated expression reflecting in the flames. Fabri slowly leaned in, his dry lips brushing against Ermal’s lightly and gently before pulling away. And now being this close to fulfilling his wishes, Ermal wasn’t willing to let go. He chased after Fabri and covered the man’s lips with his own, deepening the kiss, putting his hands around Bizio’s neck to keep him closer. Soon be felt fingers stroking his cheeks and then moving to his hair, entangling in a mess of untameable curls. Ermal never thought tobacco mixed with black tea and lemon would taste so good, especially combined with the intoxicating smell. Later he’d need to ask Fabrizio what perfume he used. Or not. Knowing might destroy the magic.

Soon (too soon for Ermal’s taste) they had to pull away for air. Fabri’s hands were still tenderly caressing dark curls, and Ermal had to fight back a moan. Having someone touch his hair like that and loving it to the point of begging for more was something he could easily get used to.

\- Is this how you study phonetics? - Fabrizio raised an eyebrow, his voice low and teasing with hints of sensuality.

\- Articulation is important, you know? Seeing how your mouth works.

\- And what would you say about my articulation?

\- I'm still not sure, - Ermal moved his hands from Fabri’s neck to his back to bring the Roman closer, - I need further inspection.

Without a warning he was pulled into a passionate kiss and drowned in the familiar scent. With each second they managed to get closer, even when it already seemed impossible, being apart only for a moment to catch a breath. Fabri’s arms encircling Ermal’s waist, pecks on the cheek and forehead and the whole new reality in front of Ermal felt so natural, so right, he shoved any traces of previous concerns aside as well as the thoughts of possible consequences that, no doubt, will follow. What mattered was that he couldn't get enough of Fabri and even a short second of his absence wasn’t welcomed, despite the obvious need for air. _“Oxygen is overrated”_ , Ermal thought as he found the man’s lips once again.

***

The next week was full of stolen kisses, lingering gazes from across the table, more sensual love songs performed on stage and knowing smiles from their friends. Marco turned the jokes down, when he learned Ermal can bite and is just as capable of roasting as Montanari himself. Andrea was another story, his teasing had no limit, which resulted into him getting brutally murdered by mafia even more, as Fabrizio had no mercy when it came to protecting his love life. Giada only occasionally winked at Ermal and congratulated him for overcoming his pointless fears. He briefly thanked her mostly for not interfering too much.

When they finally got a moment alone, the sounds of music in the bar turned quieter and most of the regulars were heading towards the door, some holding those, who had too much to drink celebrating the upcoming holidays. Dino as the most responsible one reminded others of the time, and the company exited their sacred place and said their goodbyes to the bartender, warning him to get someone to cover for him next time as indulging him in loud silly conversations was more fun than watching him mix the drinks, despite him being excellent at his job. Ermal stayed behind for a while and made a note to himself to buy Giada’s favourite flowers on the way back as a thank-you for not asking questions about it. She has been very understanding and helpful for the whole time they lived together. He was lucky to call her his friend. Another reason of him being lucky has just finished cleaning the table and was ready to close the bar. Ermal sighed. Somehow he was still nervous about being one-on-one with the tattooed musician, but this was nothing like the anxiety eating him alive a week ago. Yes, he was a little scared, but this adrenaline only gave him more courage.

\- Bizio? - he called as he approached the other man and put his head on his shoulder. Answered with a short “Mmm?” he continued.

\- How about meeting tomorrow? I still need some help with my project.

\- The project, huh? I don't remember myself being useful last time.

Fabrizio turned around, mischief burning in his eyes.

\- Oh, you were very useful…

Ermal captured Fabri’s lips and pulled away before the other man could take control over the situation.

\- And what was that for? - Fabri chuckled while reaching out to play with black curls he was longing to ruffle for the past few hours.

\- You know, - Ermal leaned forward to the touch, - _For science._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for surviving this!  
> If you leave a comment, I'd die happy. I'm dumb and weird, but I love feedback xD


End file.
